


Forward Momentum

by kageygirl



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Make Them Do It, Drugs, Kink/Cliche Challenge, M/M, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-23
Updated: 2005-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:25:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/kageygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You do realize that this smoke isn't exactly, ah, pharmaceutically inert."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forward Momentum

As far as John Sheppard was concerned, the Arsani were pretty nice people.

First was the feast, and the food had been too good for Rodney to complain about it not coming out of a wrapper. After the sun went down, the Arsani had lit these big bonfires here and there around their camp, making some sort of pronouncement and tossing elaborately tied bundles of sticks into the flames. There had been a lot of pronouncements over the course of the evening. John hadn't realized there were that many ways to say thanks to whoever they were thanking.

Teyla might have known, but she and Ford had volunteered to take the food they'd traded for back on the Jumper with Markham and Stackhouse, leaving John here with Rodney for the Arsani harvest festival. Which kind of felt like a set-up, though John had certainly had worse times.

He guessed it was payback for the bogus Genii "harvest ceremony" Ford and Teyla had gotten stuck with. Though he suspected the Genii hadn't been quite so big on the speeches. Probably their only saving grace, the underhanded bastards.

As for the Arsani, John wasn't exactly paying attention to the speeches any more. Which was probably not so diplomatic of him, but John couldn't bring himself to worry about that. The smoke from the burning sticks gave off a familiar smell, and it was making a nice fuzzy haze around everything, like an old movie shot in soft focus.

Right now, John was just sitting back and watching the smoke curling around Rodney's face. Or maybe he was watching Rodney while the smoke curled around him. He was sure there was an important difference between the two, but John wasn't quite up to picking that thought apart.

Rodney was stretched out on one of the Arsani animal-skin mats, gazing up at the night sky, hands folded over his stomach. He looked good and relaxed, though his eyes were bright. The flickering firelight was making really interesting patterns on his face.

Without looking at John, Rodney said, "You're still staring at me, aren't you?"

"Yeah, pretty much." John shrugged, even though Rodney couldn't see him. He liked the way it rolled the residual tension out of his shoulders. "Is that a problem?"

"Not really." Rodney's lips curved into a smile, shifting the mosaic of firelight into a new configuration along his cheeks. "You do realize that this smoke isn't exactly, ah, pharmaceutically inert."

John snorted. "Kinda got that, yeah." He hadn't been this looped in a long time.

"Right. Just making sure."

John stretched out on his own animal skin, resting his head on his upper arm so that he could keep watching the shadows dancing on Rodney's face. He wanted Rodney to keep talking, because Rodney's voice was making a nice warm burr in his chest. "What do you see up there, Rodney?"

"Right now? I see a very large number of stars, about which I don't know nearly enough." Rodney frowned slightly. Then he blinked, and his expression cleared. "I don't even know where Atlantis is from here. Or if we'd be able to see our star from this part of the planet at this time of night."

 _Our star._ John liked the way that sounded.

"It's about twelve hundred years away by Puddle Jumper." John rolled his head back and looked up, but the stars wouldn't keep still, winking out behind the smoke, moving in little streaky trails. "From the ground, though, I'm not sure which direction exactly."

"I should hate you for that," Rodney said cheerfully.

For the math thing, John knew. He went back to staring at Rodney, giving him a charming smile even though Rodney wasn't looking at him. It seemed like the thing to do. "But you don't."

"But I don't." Rodney laced his fingers behind his head. His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "Have you noticed that the constellations here are different from the ones we can see from Atlantis? Every planet we go to, the stars change. It only makes sense, of course, and I'd read as much in Colonel Carter's mission reports, but it's more disconcerting than I'd anticipated."

Huh. Yeah, John hadn't really thought about it from an astrophysicist's point of view. That'd be like seeing a different horizon from the same base every morning. He didn't like the thought that it might bother Rodney, and he felt himself frowning as he tried to think of a good way to put it. "It's a metaphor for our being here," he said at last. He liked metaphors. He really liked how Rodney had articulated this one, even if he hadn't meant to. "There's so much we don't know out here, and everything we think we've learned just keeps changing."

Rodney snickered suddenly. "No, no, stop, please. If we start talking philosophy while we're stoned, I might remember it in the morning, and then I'd have to shoot us both."

John had to laugh with him, because, yeah, they were definitely under the influence.

Rodney rolled to look at John, grinning. "And you, Major?" He waved a hand at the night around them. "What do you see?"

Rodney. John had pretty much just been looking at Rodney. But somehow, that didn't seem like the right thing to say.

John looked around the camp for something else to focus on, and stopped on the chieftain, standing by the central fire. He felt his eyes go wide. "I see..." He blinked, hard, but no, it was still there. "I think I see the chieftain not wearing any pants."

"Did you just say--" Rodney stared in the same direction John was. "You did. Well. Okay."

John sat up and started listening again. The chieftain was large, and pretty well built, and definitely not wearing anything except a headdress. John blinked again, and really tried to pay attention to what he was saying. And to keep his eyes on the chieftain's face, instead of any of the naked parts below his face. The chieftain was talking about receiving gifts from the land, from the earth, and... giving of themselves in return?

And then he moved his hands down, below his waist, and--John wasn't sure his eyes were still talking to his brain anymore.

"Rodney." His voice came out a little choked.

"Major." Rodney sounded a little too normal. Carefully controlled. Which was almost funny, because Rodney tended to freak out when he was sober. Except that John didn't think "funny" was really a good way to think about this turn of events, because it was so very... not.

John had to clear his throat. "Is he..."

"Yes, yes, I suspect he _is_ doing exactly what you think he's doing."

"Okay. So it's not just the smoke, then." Damn. That meant that the chieftain really was standing in the middle of the camp, masturbating and chanting. John didn't want to watch, but it was difficult to avoid it. The man was--definitely a credit to his people.

He forced himself to look at Rodney, because that was so much less bad than watching the chieftain as he--than watching the chieftain. Rodney had sat up, too, at some point, and he was still watching the chieftain with wide eyes, his face unnaturally blank.

"No, no, not just the smoke. Though I suspect that, without the smoke, I wouldn't be taking this nearly so well." Rodney nodded to himself, in a rhythm that seemed disturbingly close to the rhythm of the chieftain's hand. John could still see the movement from the corner of his eye. "No, I'm sure I'd be incredibly uncomfortable."

"Rodney." John clapped a hand heavily on Rodney's shoulder. "Stop that."

"What? Oh, sorry. Sorry." He turned to John but ended up staring past John's shoulder, and his eyes got wider. "Ah, Major... he's not the only one."

John didn't look behind him, because he didn't need to. Past Rodney, and, in fact, all around them, the Arsani men, sitting and standing, were... working on giving themselves to the earth. And when the hell had all the women disappeared?

"My god. It's a tribal circle jerk." Rodney's voice was hushed, but still oddly calm.

"Uh--yeah." John was uncomfortably aware of the fact that they were pretty much right in the middle of the group, in the place of honor. And he and Rodney were the only ones who weren't getting with the program. Except for the wrinkled little medicine man (who, John was really glad to see, still had his pants on), but medicine guy was starting to give John a disapproving glare. And glancing at his two acolytes.

Who were also very large. And also not wearing pants. And also participating in the ceremony.

John really, really didn't want the medicine man to send them his way.

He felt his cheeks burning, and he turned back to Rodney, though he couldn't quite look him in the eye. Instead, he addressed Rodney's collarbone. "Rodney, I think we--we're supposed to join in."

"I was--" Rodney's voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "I was getting that impression myself." He shivered a little under John's hand, and John tightened his grip.

He looked up at Rodney's face. "You okay?"

Rodney gave him a quick, nervous smile. "Possibly a little too okay. I, ah, I think the smoke has certain other properties." He coughed. "Sexual ones."

"Yeah." John tried to return the smile, though he suspected it was even less convincing than Rodney's had been. "I've been trying to ignore that."

"Well." Rodney looked down, exhaling a silent laugh. "Right. I guess we should get on with it, then."

Without looking at John, Rodney slid himself forward to the bare dirt, slipping out from under John's hand. John watched him start to unfasten his pants and realized he should be doing the same.

Despite the utterly fucked-up circumstances, it was a relief to get his pants open and stroke himself. John was half-hard already, from the smoke and from the sight of the tribesmen getting themselves off. All that enthusiasm was kind of affecting.

He tried to keep his eyes on the dirt as he pumped himself slowly. Drums had started somewhere, and John concentrated on them as he felt sweat start to prickle his skin, as his breathing picked up.

Just to make sure Rodney was all right, John stole a look at him.

His breath caught. He couldn't look away.

Rodney knelt in the dirt, flushed, breathing through parted lips, his eyes mostly shut. He frowned, lines forming on his forehead as his hand worked. With his other hand, he gripped his thigh, making sharp creases in the fabric of his pants. He was completely hard, the head of his cock smooth and taut and red as it jutted out from his closed fist.

John wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything hotter. His cock throbbed unexpectedly, and he shuddered, squeezing it. He wasn't sure when his hand had stopped moving.

John didn't think he should be getting off on watching a member of his team getting off. But it was like watching Rodney was setting up a sympathetic vibration in him, drawing the tension that much tighter, making him that much harder.

He must have made some sort of noise. Rodney raised his head, looking straight into John's eyes, and the raw hunger he saw there sent a primal jolt through John.

Rodney just held his gaze and stroked himself faster. He squeezed his eyes shut suddenly and leaned forward, free hand digging into the soil. He came over the dirt, panting hard, head hanging down.

John himself concentrated on inhaling, exhaling, and it was shaky and took a lot more effort than it should have. The drums seemed far away, and all he could hear was Rodney sucking in deep, shuddering breaths. Rodney finally blinked up at John, then crawled over to him, wiping his hands on the mat along the way. He leaned in close, so close that John could see that his pupils were dilated, from the dark or the drugs or both.

In a rough voice, Rodney murmured, "You can kick my ass later," then wrapped his fingers around John, replacing John's hand with his own.

John gasped as Rodney stroked him, sure and strong. He held onto Rodney's upper arm, feeling the muscles bunch as Rodney worked him, and god, that felt so good. Someone else's hand, Rodney's hand, felt fucking incredible. Now John was the one panting, and he felt his eyes go unfocused as he got close.

Rodney leaned his forehead against John's temple, and that was weirdly reassuring. They were both hot and sweating, and John pressed back against him, letting Rodney anchor him, closing his eyes and letting himself go. He came in a rush, over Rodney's hand and the ground before him.

Rodney gentled him through the aftershocks, until it got to be too much and John had to grab his wrist. Rodney rubbed his forehead against John's temple, then wiped his hand on the ground and backed away.

John stayed on his knees as he tried to get his breathing back under control. The natives were cheering and hollering as the ceremony apparently concluded. Next to him, Rodney tucked himself away and refastened his pants, then stood up and stumbled past John, away from the fire circle.

Looking up, John saw the medicine man nodding down at him in approval, grinning a creepy toothless grin. John wasn't sure if the harvest festival was over, and he really didn't care.

Screw diplomacy. He had to find Rodney.

John got his clothing back in order with shaking hands, then headed off into the darkness.

* * *

As it turned out, John didn't have to go far to find Rodney. He was in the visitor's tent they'd been shown to earlier, lying on his back with his knees drawn up, both hands over his face. The cuffs of his jacket sleeves were wet; John guessed he'd washed up in the basin beside the wall.

John dropped down to sit next to Rodney. His head was spinning, and he wasn't sure it was just from the herbal smoke.

"You all right, Rodney?"

Rodney kept his face covered, so his voice came out muffled. "Fine, thank you. Good night."

John felt unsettled and keyed up and oddly bereft. "Right. Of course you are. I'm convinced." It came out harshly, and he winced, patting Rodney's knee in apology. He wasn't sure himself how to talk about what had just happened--or even if they should, because they were guys and guys didn't talk about things, even though Rodney talked about everything. No matter what, though, snapping at Rodney wasn't the right way to handle it. "Uh, I didn't mean that."

Rodney abruptly lowered his hands, slapping them down on the woven grass mat that covered the ground. Light from the three moons filtered in through the smoke holes and the tent flap, painting Rodney's pained expression in a shifting monochrome glow. "God, I know this is a futile request even as I make it, but Major--could you not be so... you, for just five minutes?"

"Excuse me?" John shifted over to get a better view of Rodney's face. He looked stark and lonely in the moonlight, and John had the weirdest impulse to trace his fingers over Rodney's face. His fingertips tingled.

"You know." Rodney scowled at him, as if John really did know, and was just being difficult. "Caring. Concerned. Nice."

Rubbing his forehead, John looked down at Rodney and tried to ignore his lingering dizziness. "And... this is a problem. Me being nice."

"Right now, yes. It is." Rodney sighed and closed his eyes. "Right now, I'd really prefer you to be the other you, if you don't mind. The one who's kind of a prick sometimes."

John's fingers twitched, and he stretched out, resting his forearm against the mat, curling his fingers safely into a fist. He was that much closer to Rodney, now, and he could see that his forehead was furrowed in dark lines. He lowered his voice. "Okay. Why?"

"Because--because I'm still drugged, and you're still drugged, and you're making it very difficult for me."

Rodney looked so annoyed and so-- _Rodney_ \--that John had to smile at him. Everything else around him had gone shimmering and wild, but Rodney was still Rodney, like the incandescent focal point of it all. "What am I making so difficult?"

Rodney opened his eyes, and they were dark and dilated as he stared up at John. He somehow looked more naked than he had out by the fire circle. "Not doing this."

Rodney reached out and slid his hand behind John's neck, pulling him into a kiss.

Rodney's mouth was hot and hungry, and John couldn't help but respond. Rodney had been right--again, and that shouldn't really surprise John any more. John was still feeling the effects of the smoke, and between that and the post-coital satisfaction thrumming along his nerves, he felt a little reckless. This kiss was just what he wanted, without having known that he wanted it.

Rodney tasted like longing, dark and familiar and haunting, and that just made no goddamned _sense_ , but John leaned into him, deepening the kiss. He wanted to chase that hollow pain away with tongue and lips and teeth, to replace it with simple heat. Rodney moaned into his mouth, and John felt it vibrate through him. He dropped a hand to Rodney's chest to steady himself, and found he liked the counterpoint of feeling Rodney's chest moving under his palm.

Rodney eventually slid his hand to John's shoulder and pushed him back, though his fingers flexed as if he were fighting himself. "Sorry. I'm sorry." He closed his eyes and dropped his head back down with a gentle thump.

With his hand resting on Rodney's chest, John could feel that Rodney was breathing just as quickly as John himself was. "Rodney?" he asked softly. "Why do you think doing that is such a bad thing?"

"Because!" Rodney looked up at him with worry and wanting plain on his face. "We're both going to be sober in the morning--god, I hope we are, that stuff had better wear off by then--and you're going to be incredibly pissed at me."

John grinned, though it felt kind of predatory. "How could I be pissed at you? If we're both high, then neither one of us is responsible for our actions."

Rodney's eyes widened, a little desperately. "You say that now. In the morning, when you're kicking my ass, it'll be a different story."

John stroked his fingertips under Rodney's jacket, playing with the fabric of his shirt. He could feel Rodney's skin underneath, jumping in response. "Oh? And how do you know you won't be kicking my ass?"

"Because that's an entirely different situation." Rodney's hand curled into a fist in the shoulder of John's jacket, but John wasn't sure whether Rodney was keeping him away or keeping him close. For that matter, he didn't think Rodney was sure.

"How so?" John slipped his hand under Rodney's shirt, laying his palm flat against the warm, smooth skin underneath. He ran his hand up Rodney's side, feeling the heat soak in, pushing Rodney's shirt up as he went.

"Because I would sleep with you anyway." Rodney's eyes went wide. "Oh, shit, I did not just say that."

John's hand stilled. "You would? Really?"

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut, and the arm he was using to hold onto John started shaking a little. "Please tell me I'm hallucinating, and I did not just say that." He looked up at John as if searching for something. "Of course, I could be hallucinating you telling me I didn't say it, in which case it doesn't matter what you tell me." He exhaled heavily and shut his eyes again, letting go of John and covering his eyes with his forearm. "Shit, shit, shit."

Under his hand, Rodney was warm and solid, chest rising and falling. John recognized that he wasn't really in a thinking kind of place, himself; he was just skimming along on feeling and instinct. He was feeling pretty good that Rodney was apparently attracted to him, and instinct was telling him that he needed to make Rodney stop looking so upset, needed to make Rodney feel the same dizzying, about-to-jump-off-a-cliff thrill that was making John's heart pound in his chest.

He'd never been the guy to resist his instincts without a damn good reason, and right now he couldn't come up with one.

So he took a deep breath, and he leaned down to murmur in Rodney's ear, "Language, Rodney. You're a potty-mouth when you're on drugs."

"Bite me."

Rodney still wasn't looking at him, so he missed John licking his lips. John did just as he was told, nipping gently at the skin beneath Rodney's ear, dragging his lips over the spot. Rodney gave a low, shuddery moan that John really liked, and slid his arm back to press his hand over his eyes. "Oh, fuck. Major, you really, really need to stop that."

John smiled against Rodney's skin. "I rest my case about the language." He nuzzled into Rodney's hair, catching the lingering smell of wood smoke. "Now answer the question."

"What?" Rodney's voice had gone breathy. "I--what was the question?"

"Would you sleep with me--" John asked slowly, enunciating each word, pausing to suck on Rodney's earlobe, "--without chemical interference?" Rodney's breath hitched, and John started moving his hand again, sliding Rodney's shirt up further, feeling chest hair twining around his fingers.

"You already know the answer to that," Rodney murmured, and John wasn't sure anyone but Rodney could sound resigned and turned on at the same time.

John kissed Rodney's cheek, just in front of his ear. "Tell me anyway."

Sighing, Rodney moved his hand away from his eyes, staring at the roof of the tent. "Yes. Yes, I would."

"Okay then." He licked Rodney's neck, tasting salt and smoke, an undertone of detergent near his collar.

Rodney slid his hand into John's hair--reluctantly, John thought, fingers moving restlessly. "Major, can you please just let me sleep this off, before you end up never speaking to me again?"

He let Rodney back him off far enough that John could see his expression, something between desire and that certain-doom despair that still flared up now and then. Rodney was trying so hard to be noble, but John thought that he didn't really want to be. Rodney was more than strong enough to have pushed him away at any time.

But he hadn't even made the effort.

John licked his lips, and he saw Rodney's eyes get drawn to his mouth. "I'll consider it, on one condition."

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Rodney asked, "What?"

John grinned, and this time he knew it was it was the feral kind. "Kiss me again."

" _What?_ " Rodney looked as though John had just said the thing after the last thing he expected to hear.

He bent over Rodney, close enough to feel Rodney's breath skittering across his lips. "Kiss. Me. Again."

And then he cheated, closing the distance himself before Rodney had a chance to. He stroked Rodney's cheek as he kissed him, felt the prickling of stubble against his palm. Rodney's hand tightened in his hair, and his other hand settled on John's back, and, wow, it felt really good just to be held. Even if Rodney was kissing him like he was trying to store up the memory, to bring it back on some lonely, rainy day.

But John didn't like the idea of Rodney planning this to be a one-time thing. That just seemed wrong, somehow, but John wasn't sure he could chase down why. Not when Rodney felt so damn good and tasted better.

John pushed off with the forearm still supporting his weight, shifting in closer, pressing his chest against Rodney's, feeling that breathing warmth of his up close. He broke the kiss and started working across Rodney's jaw line, letting the stubble there burn his lips. Rodney gasped out, "I thought you were going to let me sleep this off."

"I said I'd consider it." John breathed very gently across Rodney's ear, and kept his voice low. "I considered it. I've decided it's a bad idea."

"God. I'm such a dead man in the morning. Could you just shoot me now and spare us both the trouble later?"

John chuckled. "If I did that... we couldn't do this." He slid his hand down over Rodney's chest and stomach, rubbing his palm over Rodney's erection--oh, yeah, parts of Rodney were definitely on the same page. Rodney sucked in a sharp breath as he grabbed John's wrist.

Rodney stared hard at John, his eyes liquid-dark in the moonlight. His voice was low and way too serious. "Look, I'm just trying to avoid a horribly awkward morning-after freak-out, all right?" Rodney closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Why do I have to have such ridiculously inappropriate taste?"

John wanted to slide a fingertip across Rodney's eyelashes, to feel them feather against his skin, but he'd run out of hands. He settled for leaning over and licking the far side of Rodney's neck, feeling their cheeks rasp together. "I think you taste pretty good."

"That's not the--god--" Rodney still had his wrist, but John pressed his palm down, massaging Rodney through his pants. "--that's not the point."

"I think that's entirely the point. I think you taste good--" John swiped his tongue across the hollow of Rodney's throat. "--and you feel good--" He cupped Rodney through his pants, kneading him with his fingers. "--and you're just being a stubborn son of a bitch." He pressed a soft kiss to Rodney's lips, and Rodney's eyes popped open in surprise. "Good thing I like that about you."

He really did, too, which was kind of weird. He liked that Rodney didn't just let him get away with being wry and cute, liked that Rodney didn't give in just because John smiled at him.

Rodney narrowed his eyes at him again, so John did give him a smile, a confident one that he didn't entirely feel, because that was better than letting Rodney know how nervous and wired he was suddenly feeling. He wanted this, wanted Rodney, he realized, and it wasn't just about some warm body to take the edge off.

So he smiled, and he looked Rodney right in the eye, and he said plainly, "Rodney. I'm a big boy, and I know what I want. And right now I really, really want to get naked with you."

Rodney watched him for a minute, and then loosened his grip on John's wrist, just resting his fingers there. "Fine, fine. I tried to warn you, don't say I didn't, and that's really--"

John used that opportunity to straddle his hips, the grass mat rustling under his knees. He bit down on a moan as his erection rubbed against Rodney's. Rodney bucked up against him, and his eyes went wide as he said faintly, "Yeah, that works."

Sliding his hands under Rodney's shirt again, John shoved it up, out of the way. "Off."

"Right, okay." Rodney struggled to sit up, straightening out his legs, and John slid backwards to rest on Rodney's thighs. He ditched his jacket and shirt while Rodney was working his own off, and leaned in for a kiss when Rodney tossed his clothes aside. It was supposed to be a quick one, but Rodney was, whoa, a hell of a lot more committed than he'd been earlier, and John hadn't realized exactly how much he'd been holding back before.

John's head was spinning again when Rodney leaned back, and he guessed Rodney felt that one, too, the way he was blinking rapidly. Rodney said softly, "So, um, what do you want..."

John slid his hands out of Rodney's hair and inched back again--he'd pretty much climbed into Rodney's lap during the kiss. Dropping his head, he went to work on Rodney's fly, fumbling a little but covering it with a shaky smile. "Well, I think I kind of owe you one..."

Rodney's hand covered his suddenly, and John raised his head to see Rodney staring at him, quiet but intense. "No. You don't. You don't have to..."

Somehow, focusing on Rodney's face soothed the trembling out of his hands, and John rubbed Rodney through his boxer shorts, watching Rodney jump a little as his breathing hitched. "No, I don't have to. Like I said, I want to." He slid his fingers in through the flap, and god, Rodney's skin was so hot. "That was a joke, Rodney."

"Sorry," Rodney said, and then he was just fixated on John's face as John's fingers ran along his cock.

John had to look down then, as he slipped Rodney's cock through the flap. Rodney was hot and hard and throbbing under his hand, and it was everything and nothing like touching himself. He watched Rodney reacting to what John was doing, and it was almost like feeling the movement himself. It might even have been better.

He circled the head of Rodney's cock with his fist, thinking of the way Rodney had looked out by the fire circle, trying to remember what Rodney had seemed to like. Rodney grabbed his hips, and John looked up again, to see Rodney breathing hard, lips parted, still concentrating so fiercely on John's face. He'd always thought Rodney's expressions were easy to read before, but the need and want were so clear now that John couldn't keep up his exploration, couldn't keep teasing Rodney like that. He firmed up his grip and settled into a rhythm of fast, smooth strokes, resting his other hand on Rodney's shoulder for balance.

Because he was watching Rodney just as closely as Rodney was watching him, he saw the change in Rodney's expression just before Rodney stiffened, his whole body jerking toward John as warmth pulsed over his hand. John pulled him into a kiss, wanting to taste him while he had that look of stunned wonder.

Rodney leaned into the kiss, wrapping a hand around the back of John's neck and pulling him down, and it was warm and open and a little uncoordinated and really, really good. John thought the room was spinning again, but then his shoulders hit the mat, the impact cradled by Rodney's arm, and he figured he should give Rodney a pass on the coordination thing, since Rodney had somehow managed to roll him down to the floor without really breaking the kiss.

Pulling back, Rodney gave him a smug little smile, though it was a little fuzzy around the edges, almost verging into sweet. Their legs were tangled together, and there was a definite smear of warm and sticky across John's stomach, but it was the hand that slid into John's own, threading their fingers together, that felt more intimate than the rest of it.

Rodney scraped his teeth down John's neck, and John turned his head to encourage him. Rodney's mouth was warm and wet and really talented. John was so preoccupied with the way that Rodney was marking a path down his chest with warm licks and gentle bites that when Rodney's other hand rubbed his erection, he jumped, startled.

That made Rodney smile at him again, this one delighted, and he stretched back up to kiss John while his free hand opened John's fly. He moved down again, and squeezed John's hand just before he licked a wide swath up the length of John's cock.

John felt his head hit the mat, and he tightened his fingers around Rodney's as Rodney's mouth closed over him, as Rodney's other hand started stroking John in tandem with the warm, hot suction. John pretty much just concentrated on breathing, because Rodney was doing such incredible things with his mouth that it didn't seem worthwhile to even think about moving. He managed to slide a hand into Rodney's hair, and that much coordination felt like a major victory.

John felt himself getting close, felt the tension coiling tighter below his stomach, and he lifted his head to give Rodney some warning. But he didn't get a chance to say anything, because Rodney was watching him again, his lips shiny with saliva around John's cock, his eyes hot and intense through his eyelashes. That look sent John spiraling over the edge, and it was like Rodney's hold on his hand was tying them together. He could see the connection reflected back to him in Rodney's eyes.

He could still feel it when he got control of his hands back, and when he dragged Rodney up for a really, really appreciative kiss, and when he rolled them both over to start all over again.

* * *

Cautiously, John opened his eyes. The morning sunlight was bright and a little obnoxious, but it wasn't any worse than, say, the glare off the ice fields of Antarctica. The weirdest part was that the light didn't really hurt his head all that much.

He really should have been in more pain. Pain was supposed to be there to teach him the error of his ways, to remind him that he wasn't a kid anymore, that he was really too old for that kind of thing.

He wanted about a gallon of water, and his muscles felt kind of stiff, but he'd definitely had worse mornings after. He did feel like someone had stuffed his head with wool, but that was more of a weird sort of pressure than actual pain.

Of course, the pressure thing might just have been because Rodney was sprawled across half his chest, pinning him down and trapping his left leg.

John remembered what Rodney had said last night--remembered everything, actually, which surprised him a little--and waited to start freaking out as he woke up more, like Rodney had predicted.

It didn't seem to be happening.

He almost thought he should feel cheated, but the joke died in his head before it was fully formed. If Rodney had been awake, he might have said it out loud, but without the chance of getting Rodney to snap at him, it just wasn't quite funny.

John looked down at Rodney's head, nestled into the hollow of his shoulder, at the arm slung around his waist, elbow bent and hand curved around his ribs, and the only urge he had was to hook a finger under Rodney's chin and angle his head back a little, so that John could see him better.

Which probably wasn't a safer urge than Rodney's posited ass-kicking urge. But there it was, and there he was, having it, and pretending something wasn't there wasn't any way to make it go away.

Assuming he wanted to. Make it go away, that was. And he wasn't entirely sure that was the case.

Having Rodney wrapped around him was warming, in a way that wasn't just about body heat. He wanted to wonder when the hell that had happened, that he'd gotten to a place where having Rodney naked and tickling his chest hair with his breath was a good thing, but...

Well, he really just felt like an idiot for not having seen this coming sooner.

Because he liked Rodney, all brains and attitude and razor-sharp vocabulary. Wicked sense of humor and incongruous blind spots. Demandingly high performance standards and surprising bravery and compassion he couldn't entirely suppress, as hard as he tried. He made John dig deeper, think harder. That should have been a pain in the ass, but John...

John had been enjoying the hell out of that.

As far as having his little epiphany while they were both naked--well, it seemed sort of ungrateful to worry about that detail, considering that that sex had been really... whoa. Not to mention almost entirely his own fault.

Actually, he was more just impressed that they'd both successfully gotten out of their clothes at some point.

John closed his eyes and dropped his head back down, just letting himself drift for a while, allowing his fingers to stroke over the small of Rodney's back, until Rodney started showing signs of waking up.

Rodney tightened his arm around John's waist, curling in around him with an indistinct murmur--and then he stopped, going completely still. Even the breaths fluttering across John's chest became shallow and controlled.

Raising his head slowly, carefully, Rodney looked John in the eye. He was pretty much a textbook example of "wary," and John felt the sudden tension in Rodney's muscles, all along the side of John's body. "Major," he said in a low voice, like he was testing the word out.

"McKay." He said it casually, and he could just about see Rodney leaping straight down the road to unwavering conviction that John was going to give him hell. John covered his impulse to smile and watched Rodney watching him, so that he knew Rodney was going to move an instant before he tried to push himself off of John.

With the arm he had around Rodney, John tightened his hand while pushing off with his elbow, and if it seemed a hell of a lot more awkward than Rodney's move the night before, it still had some damn satisfying results--Rodney ended up on his back, and John had him mostly pinned. He caught Rodney's free hand, the one he hadn't trapped under his own body, bringing it down beside Rodney's shoulder.

Rodney's eyes went wide, and then he seemed to pull back, something in his expression seeming to withdraw without going anywhere, his voice coming out somewhere between panicked and vindicated. "Oh, god, I knew it. Here comes the ass-kicking portion of the morning. At least it means I won't have to suffer through the hangover--"

"Rodney." John leaned in close and stared Rodney down, finally letting his grin creep out. "If I haven't killed you so far just for being you, why would I kill you for last night?"

Rodney blinked up at him, confused but at least present again, and John thought his grin was probably verging on idiotic. Seeing Rodney from this angle, literally and figuratively, was just too cool, and John pressed a close-mouthed kiss to the corner of Rodney's mouth, then started kissing back along Rodney's jaw.

John shifted to get a better angle, letting Rodney free his arm, and Rodney laid a hand on John's back, tentative, so lightly it almost tickled. "Major?"

"Rodney?" He said it archly--breathed it, really, across Rodney's ear, and Rodney shuddered against him.

"What--oh, god--" John had found that spot on Rodney's neck again, just under his ear, and found that Rodney still tasted pretty damn good there. He heard Rodney swallow hard, heard him trying to keep his voice steady. "What are you doing?"

"I thought that would be obvious, even for a genius like you." He let Rodney's other hand loose, so that he could run his own down Rodney's side, explore all that warm skin in the bright morning light. "I'm trying to get back to my new happy place."

The already-being-naked thing came in handy, what with John not having to get rid of any clothing. He licked across Rodney's collarbone, sliding his hand over Rodney's hip--

\--and Rodney grabbed his wrist, hard, pulling his hand away.

John looked back up at Rodney, about to make some comment about déjà vu, but Rodney's eyes were wide and serious. "Major. _John_. We can't."

"Why not?" He made his voice gentle, because Rodney looked a tiny bit freaked out. He curled the fingers of his captive hand into a loose fist, making them no threat to touch anything, but Rodney still had his wrist in an almost painful grip.

Rodney narrowed his eyes at John, but the panic was still there, and it tipped his condescending look off-center. "Ah, Air Force? Don't ask, don't tell?"

"I wasn't really planning on doing either." John sat up, slowly, giving Rodney a small, pacifying smile, though he was still thrown by Rodney's response.

He reached his other hand toward Rodney, just to settle him down. Rodney warned him away with a gesture, palm out, sitting up with unsteady movements, but never taking his eyes off John. "Major, stop--look, you don't want this, all right? We were intoxicated..."

"Like that's never happened before." Pursing his lips, John gave Rodney a rueful look, but Rodney was still apparently not finding anything amusing about the situation.

"Not to us, it damn well hasn't." Rodney looked down and let John's wrist go, belatedly, as if he hadn't remembered he was still holding it. When he raised his head, his mouth was set in determined lines. "You're probably still high, all right? You've got to stop this."

John shook his head. "Rodney, I'm fine." He frowned, because Rodney was watching him with something like his customary suspicion, his "are you screwing with me?" look, and asked, "Are you okay?"

Before Rodney could say anything, there was a faint burst of static from the pile of gear John had left by the wall before the festival. Damn it.

John turned away from Rodney with reluctance, snagging his radio earpiece and slipping it back on. " _Major Sheppard?_ "

"Sheppard here." He looked back to see Rodney gathering up his clothing, not looking at him.

Ford's voice was just a little too amused as he asked, "How was the festival, sir?"

"Oh, it was fine, Lieutenant. Good food, interesting music..." Rodney tossed John's pants in his direction, and he caught them one-handed.

"Better you than me, sir." Ford sounded too casual--not deliberately casual, just plain innocent--to have known about the ceremony thing last night. John figured the lieutenant had really only intended to get out of what he thought would be boring duty.

Yeah, not so much. Though, in hindsight, John was glad Ford hadn't been around for that.

"I'll keep that in mind, Ford." John gave his words a meaningful edge, but he wasn't really thinking about how he was going to make Ford pay. He was more concerned with the way Rodney was packing up his own gear--quickly, calmly, all indications normal except for the fact that he wasn't looking at John. Some days--the good days, actually, come to think of it--it seemed like Rodney was rarely not looking back at John, at least in passing.

"Yes, sir." Ford chuckled, and John realized he might have to come up with something particularly creative, since Ford didn't really seem sufficiently cowed. "We should be there in about twenty minutes."

"Understood. Sheppard out."

He looked up at Rodney, about to pass the message, but Rodney had his own earpiece back in, and he nodded down at the floor near John's feet. "I heard."

Then he turned and left the tent.

John started pulling on his clothing, scowling at the patch of sunlight Rodney had disappeared into. He might not have had a hangover, but John thought there might be a headache looming on his horizon.

* * *

Actually, it looked like John might have been wrong.

Rodney didn't seem inclined to talk about what had happened. Or even react to it any more. At all. Ever.

By the time John had gotten himself geared up and outside, Rodney was eating breakfast with several of the tribal elders, and he looked up when John joined them, squinting into the morning light and acting like nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them.

Which had disturbed John a lot more than he wanted to admit. But then he was handed a bowl and offered a place to sit, and he didn't have a chance to talk to Rodney before Ford and Teyla showed up, bright-eyed and cheerfully oblivious.

They didn't _talk_ all the way back to Atlantis, though Rodney went on about the food they'd been served the night before. John played along, throwing in his own asides whenever Rodney gave him his cues, though he felt a little off his game.

He should have been enjoying himself--and on some level, he was, especially when he noticed that he and Rodney really did have those little cues for each other, those conversational blanks. But Rodney kept acting so unrelentingly casual that John was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It was driving him nuts.

After the debriefing (people nice, low-tech, happy to trade food for meds, no-that's-it-nothing-else-to-tell), John had had it.

He stopped Rodney on his way out of the conference room with a humorless smile and a hand on his shoulder. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, though he could see Rodney register that it wasn't a request.

Rodney gave him an indescribable look, and another one when he noticed they were heading to John's quarters, but he didn't say anything until the door hissed shut behind him. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and gave John his own unhappy smile. "Don't worry, Major, I won't be putting anything incriminating into the mission report."

"Screw the mission report, Rodney." Rodney raised his eyebrows, and John winced. "Bad choice of words."

Rodney held out a hand before John could say anything else, cutting him off with a sharp gesture. "Look, you were compromised, and I took advantage of you." He looked away for a second, then back at John, lowering his voice. "I'm sorry."

John shook his head. "It was mutual, and I could have stopped you any time, you know." He folded his own arms, mirroring Rodney's stance, then leaned in close to murmur into Rodney's ear, "And, believe me, you've got nothing to apologize for."

He moved in to kiss Rodney, but Rodney took a quick step back, eyes wide, and backed into the door. He glared at John and gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine, fine. But--we're back in Atlantis now."

"Yes, we are." John made a show of glancing around the room. "I recognize the architecture."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "You're an absolute riot."

John grinned, happy to hear the sarcasm back in Rodney's voice, and stepped forward again, but this time Rodney stopped him with a hand on his chest. "All right, seriously, that's enough, Major. You've had your fun, so feel free to stop at any time."

There was something sharp-edged and unexpectedly dark in Rodney's voice. John tilted his head back and stared down at Rodney as it dawned on him. "You think this is a joke."

"Of course this is a joke." Rodney pulled his hand back and glanced at the ceiling, as if seeking the strength to deal with idiots like John Sheppard. "We got high, we jerked off in public, and then we--went further than that in private. But we're fine now, and..." Rodney gave him a hard look. "You can't want to continue anything."

John slapped his palm against the door, ignoring Rodney's thoroughly unimpressed look. "Rodney, I'm getting a little tired of you telling me what I do and do not want."

"You'll forgive me, Major, if all of this seems just a little too pat." Rodney lifted his hand and gestured back and forth between them. "Is it supposed to work just like that? We have sex a few times and you think that's something to build a relationship on?"

"Really good sex, Rodney." John raised his eyebrows, trying to lighten them mood. "And we already have a relationship, strictly speaking."

Rodney rolled his eyes and exhaled heavily. "Fine, fine--a sexual relationship. Make that, an ongoing sexual relationship."

"Why, yes, Rodney, strangely enough, I do think our having had really good sex prior to now justifies our exploring an ongoing sexual relationship." Putting his hands on his hips, John just stared at Rodney. "Why the hell am I the one doing all the convincing here? You said you wanted this."

Rodney dismissed him with a quick flick of the eyes. "What I want is irrelevant."

"Oh, for--that's crap. I think it's pretty damn relevant--especially since you're being so damn contradictory." Maybe John should have waited to start this until after they'd both gotten some rest. Now Rodney was glaring at him, and there was a weird disconnect going on between them, grating like the edges of a broken bone.

"I'm sorry--what I meant to say was, it's clearly irrelevant to you, since you won't even do me the courtesy of leaving me alone." Rodney closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "What I want more than anything, right now, is to move past our--tryst--with as little trauma as possible."

"You--wait, the trauma thing was a joke, right?" John reached out a hand, but Rodney gave him a stony look, and John didn't quite touch his shoulder." "I didn't hurt you or anything?"

Rodney snorted, and he seemly genuinely, if grimly amused. "No, Major. You didn't hurt me." He paused, looking away for a second. "Not yet, at any rate."

Rodney sounded so matter-of-fact that it took John a second to process what he'd said. "Not yet. Which means you're assuming that I would."

"Probably, not even intentionally, but yes. And I'd just as soon avoid that, thank you."

John couldn't even be pissed about that, because, yeah, from Rodney's perspective, this was pretty sudden. Not that it wasn't sudden from John's perspective, too, but John was used to flying by the seat of his pants.

Not to mention he'd had a few hours to digest the whole naked epiphany thing.

John folded his arms over his chest and leaned a shoulder against the door next to Rodney, giving him a little more room, literally and figuratively. In a mild voice, he said, "That's pretty insulting."

Lifting his chin, Rodney turned to face him. "That's realistic."

John angled his head to one side. "Pessimistic."

"Pragmatic," Rodney said, raising his eyebrows.

"Lonely," John said, plainly but without any real emphasis. Like the thought didn't bother him as much as it did.

"I'm not, actually." Rodney shook his head, and now he was almost smiling. "On the occasions when you're not stuck in a bizarre repetitive behavioral loop, I've been known to enjoy your company."

"Well, thank you, Rodney." John dropped his head forward to rub the back of his neck and blew out a breath. When he looked up, Rodney was watching him with a hint of concern, and that loosened the knot of tension in John's chest the rest of the way. In a soft voice, he asked, "So why are you making this so difficult?"

"I just--" Rodney broke off and stared down at John's chest for a long moment. When he finally looked up, his face was lined with regret, and John wanted to smooth it away with his fingertips. "Seriously, I get not wanting to think about something too hard and just going along with it. I do. But some of us don't always have that luxury, all right? And while I'm flattered that it was good enough for you that you're willing to just jump into something without considering the consequences, I'm afraid that it's just not that easy for me."

Folding his arms more tightly across his chest, John hitched himself a little closer to Rodney. "You think I haven't thought about this."

"I haven't seen any evidence of it, no." Rodney met his eyes steadily. "I think that you're seizing the moment, and I don't see what's to stop you from seizing the next moment that comes along."

John thought it might actually have been easier if Rodney had sounded apologetic, or sarcastic, or even bitter. But there was a measure of experience in Rodney's clear, simple tone that hurt to hear.

"Rodney..." John sighed, stepping away from the door and scrubbing both hands through his hair. "You remember when we first met the Genii, you knew that they wanted the nukes, and I asked you why you hadn't said anything sooner?"

Rodney shrugged. "Because I'd just figured it out."

John nodded, pacing back over in front of him. He stopped in front of Rodney, and was glad to see that Rodney didn't back away again. "I just figured this one out, myself. You want to cut me some slack?"

"Not especially, no," Rodney said lightly. John shot him a dirty look that just seemed to amuse him more.

"I'm not trying to avoid thinking about anything, Rodney. Well, not right now, anyway," he admitted. He made the mistake of glancing at Rodney's mouth, and took a quick breath at the memory of kissing Rodney as he came, feeling Rodney shuddering under him. His voice came out a little rough when he said, "But sometimes it's not so bad to surrender to the inevitable."

Rodney's eyes darkened, as if he somehow knew what John had been thinking. "You think this is inevitable."

John licked his lips, and he watched Rodney's eyes follow the movement. "I think maybe you're thinking too much, to avoid doing anything."

Rodney blinked at him. "Why would I do that?" he asked, and it was a denial, but John answered him anyway.

"I don't know. You're supposed to be the smart one here." John heaved a sigh, and straightened his shoulders against a wave of exhaustion that wasn't entirely from his mostly sleepless night. "Look, Rodney, I'll back off, okay? I just..." He shook his head, stepping away from the door. He looked back at Rodney and said, "What you said, back on the planet--I thought you wanted this."

"What I want..." Rodney was looking down again, but he moved slowly across the space between them, stopping in front of John. When he looked up, his face was troubled. "What I want is to have a say in the matter."

That hit hard, and John felt his neck stiffen, his head jerking back. "Of course you have a say in this. What kind of an asshole do you think I am?"

Rodney waved a hand in negation. "That's not what I meant. I'd just like some time to think about this without you--distracting me."

There was no way John could blame him for that--especially since he'd, well, been kind of an ass earlier. "Yeah, okay."

Rodney didn't seem inclined to leave, though, just kind of stared off into space. John glanced behind himself, then backed up and sat on the bed, scooting back so he could lean against the wall.

Looking up, Rodney caught John watching him, and John averted his eyes, snagging his book from the nightstand. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate, but it was a good prop, even when Rodney started pacing at the foot of the bed, moving across his peripheral vision.

Then he stopped suddenly, and John looked up to find Rodney glaring at him in accusation. "You know, you're distracting just being in the same room."

John felt kind of good and kind of guilty about that at the same time. "Did you want me to leave? I can." The weirdness of that hit him a second after he'd said it. "Uh, they're my quarters, though."

"No, no, that's not the point." Rodney took two brisk steps and stopped in front of John. John had to look up at quite the angle to see him, and Rodney's scowl was... almost intimidating. Not really, but John could see how it might have been. "You shouldn't be so distracting. I shouldn't be so distracted by you."

John nodded carefully. "Okay."

Rodney had one arm folded over his chest, the other elbow resting on it, chin pressed against his fist, and he seemed to be measuring John with his eyes, like John was an equation Rodney was trying to bully into balancing out. "And it's really, incredibly inconvenient to be distracted all the time."

John felt his eyebrows go up. "All the time?"

Rodney made a little cutting motion with his hand. "It was a figure of speech."

"Right." Because Rodney, one of the most precise speakers John had ever met, was all about throwing around expressions he didn't really mean.

John liked the idea of Rodney being distracted all the time. By him. Especially since John wasn't even around him _all_ the time.

Maybe he was around a lot of the time--and way to not notice that habit before, but those blinders had apparently been pretty effective--but he definitely wasn't around Rodney all the time.

"I mean, some of us have actual work to do around here, of the kind that requires concentration to keep things from burning out and/or exploding, and I--" Rodney stopped, staring down at John in suspicion. "Why are you smiling?"

There was no way that should have been cute, that self-involved irritation, but self-awareness was apparently a slippery slope. John folded his hands in his lap and tilted his head back. "Because I was wrong before."

"You were." Rodney's face that that unnatural stillness he got when he suspected he was being set up. Which was, to be fair, usually when John was winding him up about something. "About what, and... why is this a good thing, exactly?"

John set his book aside and stood up, right inside Rodney's personal space, and he thought it was kind of convenient that Rodney was standing close enough to the bed that John hadn't even had a choice about that. "You might not have a say in this after all."

Rodney's eyes flickered, but he stood his ground. "So, what--you are that kind of an asshole?"

"Thank you, Rodney. No, it's just that..." John reached out a hand and slid his palm along the side of Rodney's neck, stroking his thumb over Rodney's cheek. "We don't always get a say in these things."

Rodney closed his eyes. "Distracting," he said, almost in an undertone. John chuckled, and Rodney opened his eyes to stare pensively at John's chest for a moment. "I know I've hidden it oh-so-well, but I'm not all that fond of situations I have no control over."

"Oh, I--I never would have guessed." John raised his eyebrows as if he meant it, and Rodney gave him a level look as if he believed John's credulousness. With a little shrug, John said, "Not a whole lot of controlled situations around here."

"Lamentably few." Rodney reached up and circled John's wrist with his hand, not pulling John's hand away but keeping it in place, fingers restlessly kneading John's forearm.

With that tacit permission, John let his fingertips drift over the back of Rodney's neck, teasing along Rodney's hairline. "We're still here, though, so you must be doing okay."

Rodney stroked his thumb along the inside of John's wrist, even as he turned his head and said quietly, "Could we go back to the part where you were clueless?"

"And you were pining from afar?" John asked, and Rodney straightened imperiously.

"Did you see me pining? No." Rodney rolled his eyes and looked at John straight on again. "There's a substantial difference between pining and simply not taking action."

John tapped his fingers rapidly against the back of Rodney's neck, watching him twitch. "I'm not good at not taking action."

"Really?" If there was such a thing as fond disgust, that's how Rodney was looking at John just then. "Somehow I've managed to entirely miss your unfortunate tendency towards thrilling heroics."

Oh, John was so damn tempted to say, "I'll give you thrilling," but he didn't, because he had something better in mind. He just tugged gently at Rodney's neck, leaning in to kiss him.

Rodney's arms came up right away, wrapping around John's shoulders and pulling him in close, and yeah, this was definitely better. Rodney was warm and solid under John's hands, and then one of them moaned, and everything sped up. Without any kind of planning, Rodney's thigh was between his, and John was rubbing himself against his hip as if they hadn't spent most of the night sweaty and tangled around each other. John finally pulled away with a gasp, partly for air, partly because they were both wearing too damn much gear to keep going that way.

Rodney kept his eyes shut for a moment, then opened them and blinked rapidly at John. "Of course, it's possible that getting involved with you would cure me of this bizarre fascination, and I could get back to work. Not to mention that it would be remarkably short-sighted of me to turn down good sex."

" _Really_ good sex," John said, grinning a little, even as he backed them both toward the bed.

"Really good sex." A droll little smile pulled at the corner of Rodney's mouth. "You're pretty hung up on that, aren't you?"

Now it was John's turn to look away, his cheeks burning a little. Even though he'd started the damn joke, it was amazing how strongly he responded to Rodney. "Well, it was... really--"

"Really good sex, yes, I heard you the first time. And the second time. Not that I'm disagreeing, mind you." Rodney was looking smug again, but he drew his fingers lightly over John's cheek to get his attention back. "That might have just been the herbal smoke, you know," he said dryly, and John laughed into his neck.

"Oh, I'm willing to experiment, just to make sure." John let himself fall back on the bed, pulling Rodney down with him, and was belatedly glad that Rodney had read him well enough to brace himself on his hands. John's grand romantic gesture would have looked pretty stupid if he'd ended up making them head-butt each other.

"You're just a champion of the advancement of science, aren't you," Rodney said, smiling down at him and letting John unfasten his vest.

"Sure. I've heard it's good to have reproducible results." John flipped the edges of the vest open, and Rodney took the hint, sitting back on his heels to strip it off.

"Mmm. Though I think we should skip the peer review." Rodney pulled his shirt off, too, while John got busy on his own gear, pushing himself into a sitting position to yank it all off.

"Oh, I don't know. Could be interesting, with the right peer..." Rodney sent him a glare, right up close, and John trailed his fingertips over Rodney's eyebrows. "Kidding. I'm kidding."

"Incorrigible, that's what you are." Rodney shook his head in disbelief, though his hands were wandering over John's chest.

"Yes, I am." Taking Rodney's shoulders in his hands, John lay back down, bringing Rodney down with him. He had to stop for a second, though, just to appreciate the moment, and when Rodney gave him a concerned look, John smiled, stroking a hand over his cheek. "Actually, Rodney, I'm not sure we could find you any peers," he said, and his voice was suspiciously rough. Damn slippery slope, and the angle of descent was increasing. "I'm pretty sure you're in a class by yourself."

"Of course I am," Rodney said, though the smile he gave John in return was charmed.

And then, mercifully, Rodney shut him up, before John could get himself into any more trouble.

**Author's Note:**

> My prompts were: (Kink) Being Seduced; Orgasm Denial; (Cliché) Truth or Dare. I ran with "being seduced," and there are possibly-so-subtle-that-they're-only-in-my-head nods at orgasm denial and truth-or-dare. I also threw in the special bonus clichés of "aliens made them do it," drugs, a harvest festival, and a few more I'm sure I've forgotten. Just seemed like the thing to do. *g*


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